You'll Find Me Just As Broken
by damnation soldier
Summary: Fem!Nightwing tries to handle the losses of the Invasion. Vulnerable and lonely, she by chance befriends the newest addition to Gotham's finest criminals, the Red Hood. [Post "Endgame"]
1. Those Nights We Bleed

_1. Those Nights We Bleed_

"You're doing it again," Tim said over their current line of communication which had been Skype.

The nineteen year old kept on typing her World History report on the French Revolution, while glancing during several opportunities at the small video feed at the top right corner of her Mac Book's screen.

"Doing what, exactly?" She paused, stopping in her work to enlarge the window to better focus on her conversation with the younger Bat.

"You kept asking about me, Cassie or Bruce and anyone else for that matter to avoid talking about yourself," he pointed out flatly, twiddling with his wooden pencil, which suggests the high school-er was either studying or doing his homework as well.

"I just like hearing your voice, Timmy, that's all. Plus I'm curious about your recent debut in the dating life, what big sister wouldn't be?"

Tim's eyes sadden behind the dark sunglasses, knowing while Nightwing was an expert liar, manipulator, and could pull off the brightest smiles teenagers could offer, she hadn't fooled him. "Cassie and I are doing great, we're better than ever actually. I'm taking her to a school's dance next Friday. Rob, are- are you really doing okay?"

"What do you mean, I'm okay, Tim? Of course I am, didn't you see the Bludhaven papers? The whole 'I'm on an unstoppable campaign of stopping the well rooted poison called crime'?"

Tim looked like he was refraining to stare dumbly, sigh or the sort. "Yeah I did. Online statistics said crime rate's down by another fifteen percent only in the span of the last two weeks. I don't know how you pulled that off single-handedly in a city that's just as much as a rotten wasteland as Gotham."

The older vigilante smirks nicely, and the male Robin wanted to shake her shoulders. _Just be real, for God's sake. I know you're dying inside. It's killing you, I know it is._

But Tim never spoke up about it, knowing he might not like the repercussions either way.

"I'm just _that_ good. But I'm betting you can do better than me someday. By the way, you've been checking up on me?"

"Just the usual amount of trying to know what's up. No biggie," Tim admits, though she knew it was anything but.

It's been five months since she quit the Team, five months since she barely had any contact with any of them or the Justice League (apart from the Bats who kept on tailing, the numerous calls, texts, live chatting that happened a bit too often for her tastes), five months of living in solitary.

She's been living in her own apartment in the city, the last time she went to the manor (excluding Bat Cave rendezvous) had been four months ago, and had been an even more private person than one would find healthy. College, apartment, the abandoned temporary Bludhaven base for nightly projects, research or patrol hangout (which security program she revised for her very own single entry unless her permission was granted), Wayne Enterprises (occasionally) - were the only places she divided her time between for.

It was like she was disappearing altogether, and the other trio of the Bat clan, namely Bruce, Tim and less prominently (as it appears she'd already given up), Barbara fought tooth and nail to keep her.

Keep her from not being what, exactly? Anti-social?

_They're trying to keep me sane. Alive._ _I know that._

_I've experienced a loss, a token of death. Maybe not higher than what I've encountered before, but just as heavy._

_I've lost too a part of myself whilst I led the Team. The undercover mission, using my friends as pawns, lying to them - it's taken a toll._

_But the lying, I just kept doing more of it. I can't seem to stop._

Her expression was cheerful, happy, but blank if you knew the depths of it. And Tim knew, but he forged a smile.

"Come home sometime, okay? We could all play C.O.D.: Black Ops, you should see how much Bart's been practicing to beat me, it's hilarious."

She let her mind wheel into the revelation that Tim actually invited someone over to the house. Right, it was no use covering their secret ID's with the boy who hailed from the future. Bruce must've figured it was fine. And Bart was a good kid, so she wasn't worried. She had no reason or right to be.

"Ah, that kid, I bet he drives Jaime crazy ever since he moved out of the Allen's and crashed with him. Imagine the grocery bills, housing a speedster's like optioning to provide for an earthquake victim's group," she entertained herself with the thought, avoiding the topic, or more specifically, promising a visit or the like.

Tim noticed she dodged a bullet yet again, but didn't comment. "Yeah, I bet Blue's having a hard time keeping him contained. But then again I could've swear he told me Bart was his best friend, and so quick no less. You know how hard it was to get him recruited in the first place, remember? Now they're practically glued at the hip."

"That's nice, I guess. I'm glad for everything Bart did to help him last summer, and boy, a fast friendship they're having isn't it?"

"Uh-huh. Rob, seriously, just pop in once in a while, okay? Bruce, as in Bruce and not Batman, he misses you. I miss you. And Alfred does too," he told her.

She hesitated, but it was impossible to turn her little brother down. Her shy, extremely serious and closed off little brother whom truly inside was this amazing, caring young man no one would thought to expect except for near loved ones.

"Okay," she let out after a short difficulty. "Christmas is in a few weeks.. How about that? I mean I should probably pay up a bit of a more-than-the-one-hour and out-of-costume family reunions since I skipped October's Thanksgiving."

Tim grins. "I'll have Alfred make the best cinnamon rolls and cherry apple pie for dessert."

"You really want me to stay over, don't you kid?" She raised an amused eyebrow, almost wanting to chuckle.

"You bet I do," he wasn't even embarrassed to be honest.

She glanced at her wristwatch, reading that the time was a quarter past eleven. She knew Tim was having an off-night due to Bruce being in New York on business (and his reluctance of having his youngest protege do too many solo nights, as well as partially for preventing his son's grades to slip during winter exams) and she too was cutting patrol for the night to catch up with a few assignments she was behind with.

She still had a paper to finish after this call that would probably take another hour or two to perfect, but she wasn't going to tell Tim that. Anyways she had gotten used to not sleeping all night long to cram for exams, make her due dates and such since she was already in the middle of her second year in Princeton, no big.

She couldn't bring herself to sleep anyways when there was nothing that needed to be done after all. Nightmares, restlessness, caffeine overdose, workaholic ethics, almost every little thing could be the cause.

"Hey Tim, finish whatever it is you're doing and go to bed. It's a school night, Bruce would literally kill you if you answer your phone past midnight just for Cassie, even if you like her."

"Huh, it's funny that you're not even here but you're still bossing me around. And yeah, I know. I'm almost done, I'll go upstairs in five minutes," Tim promised. He'd been in the study slash library, sprawled on the carpet with his AP Maths textbooks, lined loose-leaf papers and an i-pad. Typical, she'd already knew where he was from the faint golden glow of the fireplace that illuminated his form across the screen.

"Okay, sweet dreams, little bird. And thanks.. for looking out for me even when I've assured that you don't have to," she pleasantly bid him goodnight. Tim repaid the gesture as the call ended, finding his last words should've been something else.

_You didn't fail any of us, you know?_

_And.. we need you to come back. You must.  
_

Her warnings for him to lead Gamma squad during the New Year's mission echoed once more. It seems so long ago. But he could listen to her voice just as clearly. On repeat, over and over again. That one irritable, somewhat forceful, yet frightening order she gave him. That one time the best of the best soldier's shell cracked in one short sentence.

Almost coincidentally, he found that he should've said it back to her this time instead._  
_

_Just don't die, okay?_

* * *

_** A/N: First time gender-bent attempt. So.. Review?**  
_


	2. When We Fall

_2. When We Fall_

The former Girl Wonder sighed as her professor distributed their biology mid terms. She'd gotten a B-.

It wasn't horrible, but she could've done better. Biology was nothing but a peek at the human physiology, something she should've mastered given her more daring line of work.

She stuffed her things, along with the graded exam once folded in half into her puma backpack once the bell had rung to signal that group was dismissed from class, which happened to be her last one for the duration of the day.

Robyn Grayson Wayne walked the steps of Princeton all by her lonesome self, receiving a few stares for several reasons. Perhaps it had been for her last name and the wealth she now possess in courtesy of the adoption by billionaire extraordinaire, Bruce Wayne. Or the fact that she was a year younger than most of them for her early admission. Or if she were vain, it might've been for her striking looks, a rather polished blend of her American Gypsy roots.

In light of the autumn breeze that sailed past her long dark mane, she tightened the indigo blazer jacket around her before hurrying along the parking area.

She leaped into her car, a silver chevrolet camaro. After tossing her book bag to the backseat, she slipped in her keys and started the engine.

In no time, the Grayson-Wayne had sped into the driveway.

Off to Central City she went.

* * *

She could spot that silhouette and recognize it from anywhere by a heartbeat. Still kneeling and oblivious to the newcomer's presence, Tigress in civilian clothes continued to mourn just a feet away from the tombstone.

This was a bad day to pay her respects. But hell, she'd gone all the way wasting her car's gas to the florist and now cemetery grounds, so there would be no point in returning.

Usually visitors of the grave yard came by bright when the sun shone high in the sky, before lunch. Presently it's past sundown, and small stars had appear in the orange-pink and violet evening sky even though it was nowhere near as dark. Still, she didn't expect Artemis to be there. Not wanting to intrude on the archer's privacy, she tiptoed closer quietly wanting to just rest the bouquet of fresh flowers on the grass and leave.

If anything indicated that the blonde had heard the girl's (mind who had been proficient in stealth to pull out the strangest, not to mention most startling of Hi's and Bye's) footsteps, Robyn had remained unaware.

That is until the half French-Vietnamese woman had shot up to her full height so suddenly, facing the Grayson in a confronting manner.

"What are you doing here?" The acrobat wanted to flinch at the venom in her voice.

"I just wanted to drop these off and I'll be on my way," true to her words, she did so and curtly took a few steps back. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Artemis."

Robyn had cut off any communication she'd had with just about anyone on the Team or League, and Artemis hadn't been an exception, though the Romani had to admit she was a more morally difficult one to shut out. And let's just say the blonde kept a grudge against her. For the part she played in the Invasion, for the part she chose to resign from after.

_It hurts to see you this way, Artemis, _Robyn wanted to admit.

Disconnected, angry, a little too raw with her emotions that it burned.

The only thing anyone else would beg to differ between Artemis and Robyn in their respective states of grief was their approach.

Artemis was still uncontrollable, fiery. It didn't give much to worry about, she was alive. She'd move on after the rough patch.

Robyn on the other hand, wore a mask to hide her feelings, that there was no clue of how bad she was slipping the slippery slope for her own well-being.

Apart from Babs whom had grown distant ever since she got caught up with post secondary education and being Batgirl and Zatanna who was pretty much the same after Zatara's _passing_, Artemis Crock was basically her best girl pal. She had this streak of competition, much like Barbara did when they were younger in Gotham High that made their bond a bit more exciting. M'gann, although Robyn had been incredibly fond of the martian, they just never clicked that way.

But that didn't matter anymore, any chemistry whatsoever in their little group had dissipated and she knew her friendship with the green archer could never be the same. It was fractured.

As if to prove that very fact, Artemis had to say this next, a grim frown plastered on her face;

"Not so fast, 'Wing. You- you can't come here. You're not welcomed. Not anymore."

The first Bat protege restrained herself from snapping, for no good would come out of it. "Artemis, it's a public grave. You can't ban me from visiting. And Wally was-"

"Your best friend?" The multiracial girl cut off, snorting. "Yeah right! You can't expect me to believe all those flirty little banters didn't screw his mind a little! He'd even told me he might've been in love with you before we dated!"

In said outburst, the older girl had stepped closer and Robyn immediately regarded her differently after noticing a few odd things upon closer inspection. First of all, her friend's stormy gray eyes hadn't been glimmering with their usual sharp, hawk-like fire, as if they were dulled somehow, while her supposedly tanned skin glistened with something that looked like cold sweat and was no longer it's warm mocha color but instead a bit sickly looking for it was paler, and her breath absolutely reeked of strong alcohol.

"Wait a second. Artemis, are- are you drunk?" The black haired girl looked perplexed, before having to sway backwards in a duck as the female archer's arm swung her way. "I'll take that as a yes," she stupidly responded, albeit talking to herself. There was no sweet-talking her friend and now attacker, so she parried the punches and kicks that came her way. She stuck on the defense, blocking with her arms, and doing several sideways folds to dodge blows when she can.

It infuriated Crock that she couldn't land a clean hit on the former Girl Wonder. There was a reason she fought with a bow and arrow or other weapons, and this was it. Even if she'd grown good, with Sportsmaster, Black Canary and Deathstroke having trained her, she was no match at close range combat with a Bat trained student, especially the first, original one even when she'd been unarmed as well. Artemis was reminded bitterly of her numerous (and several humiliating) defeats by her current match partner's hand on the holographic sparring grounds back at Mount Justice.

Robyn knew in fighting, emotions of personal rage or passion could hold someone back. Sure they might make a person's offense more brutal but also less calculated and untamed, meaning there would be an obvious opening to apprehend one's unwise opponent. Being passive yet acute, what she embodies, gives the higher form of a winning advantage.

The Bat decided to act upon her instinct right away, believing there was a risk of losing her footing if she were to keep this up. Artemis threw a rather aggressive yet sloppily planned punch. Knowing exactly where it would land, Robyn weaved, letting the fist fly past her shoulder, before latching onto Artemis' exposed elbow and shoulder blade, bending the arm over her back and trapping it there.

She used her knee to catch and press her other wrist to the bottom of her spine harshly, automatically forcing the archer to kneel, effectively immobilizing her from making any movements.

Robyn made a haste of not applying too much pressure for fear of dislocating her friend's shoulder.

The archer cried out, or rather growled like a feral animal. However, the loud sounds of struggle against her binds fell short, scuffling into something akin to held back sobs. Her captor's heart broke.

"Listen to me, Arty. He fell for you, okay? I never felt that way about Wally. It's just friendship, a very long friendship we had, nothing more. And for the record I'm sure, I swear on my life he had only wanted you. You, Artemis! You're all he loves. Just you," she insisted.

No longer green with jealousy, plain anger laced with betrayal replaced the darkness in Tigress' eyes. "Then you still had to take him away from me. Fucking overachiever!"

Robyn instantly regretted having loosened her hold for she'd considered that the girl had ceased her efforts in trying to be free of her cage. She was mistaken as Artemis broke free of her containment to send her stumbling back, momentarily losing her sense of balance.

Luckily, Artemis hadn't jumped on her. The two were standing toe to toe now, and steel gray eyes penetrated the onlooker's fiercely. "You had Batman's constant approval – he was practically wrapped around your finger as both a mentor and a great father who doesn't teach you how to kill unlike mine! You have all the money in the world, all the pretty, filthy rich dates on each arm and you were already a goddamn goodie-goodie hero but you still had to play the Messiah, didn't you?! And you had _my_ boyfriend played the Martyr!"

"It wasn't part of my plan," she said desperately. "I never meant to sacrifice anything, Artemis. Especially someone who's been a brother to me."

"Bullshit!" The assassin's daughter bit back with a curse for good measure. "Once you've done that, you didn't even think twice to look back. You abandoned everyone to hide away in heiress paradise just because you don't want to feel guilty for something that's _your_ fault!" She gritted her teeth before spatting out, "Yes, little Miss Perfect Ninja, it's _completely_ your fault!"

Well if somewhere in the near future Tim would ever say that she didn't fail anyone, she was going to point straight to Artemis Crock's direction and smugly tell him, _she certainly doesn't feel that way._

Said person dubbed ninja winced out of the archer's view as she continued the hurtful string of words. "I had to stop living the life I wanted for so long and earned because of you, Kaldur had his mind torn up and ripped to shreds by M'gann because of you, and Wally - well, he _died _because of you!"

"If for a second you think I don't feel like shit about what I've done, about what I've had to do, then you're terribly confused. I have never felt in my entire life like I've made a gigantic mess of wrong until everything I caused to happen this year," she's panting too by now, but somehow the tone of exhaustion and the utter hopelessness that seeps in to this next part does not tug at the older girl's heartstrings. "I know there's no apology in the world that can ever make this up to you and I will never deserve your forgiveness but it's not going to stop me from saying that I'm really, _really_ sorry. I wasn't fair to any of our teammates, friends, especially to you. I'm a bitch for putting you guys in jeopardy when in the end, I'm not the one paying the consequences."

This doesn't douse the archer's temper. "You know I'm just about sick of hearing you out! I've agreed to so much and what do I get in return? The one person I want to spend my life with – gone, since he vanished into thin air. His body didn't even make it. We didn't bury _anything_ down here, it's a fucking empty coffin!"

Unmasked, Nightwing's blue eyes watered shamefully but she didn't hang her head down as Artemis continued to speak, preferring to look at the blonde head-on. "I should've predicted this when I made a deal with your type, those manipulating, selfish, spoiled brats."

She looked like she wanted to take off, marching, well stomping away on her heels even in the midst of her fury and intoxication. Concerned that the girl might end up at places she didn't want to be (as she didn't have a car to travel with), Grayson mustered the gentlest, warmest, most consoling voice she could as she caught the girl by the arm, stopping her in her tracks, "Artemis, it's not safe to go back alone in your shape, let me give you a ride. Just calm down. I know how you feel."

She didn't expect the sudden strike as the partly Asian female spun around to meet her. More precisely, her fist had collided with her jaw with such a force that she staggered backwards, her head reeling. _That had definitely hurt, _Robyn thought, having assumed she'd earn sheer pain from a stinging bitch slap but had instead gotten a punch so powerful it rattled her facial bone.

Artemis was suddenly sober and conscious of her actions when she caught sight of the blood dripping from the corner of the younger hero's mouth. Robyn wiped it with the back of her hand palm in a rather relaxed manner, as if it was anything but blood.

She swallowed the rest back in, tolerating the stench of iron that would linger in the gaps of her teeth later overnight. Her expression softened as Artemis gasped in horror, falling to her knees.

"Oh my god, Robyn! I'm so sorry! Oh god, I didn't mean to hit you! Fuck, I-I-I'm sorry-," she rambled on anxiously, and Robyn could detect the change in her breathing patterns knowing it as a sign that a panic attack might soon come up.

_Losing someone makes you unable to function, feel anything other than emptiness or anger or self blame for most of the time. But there are pieces, rare times that serve as a remainder apart from those composed periods, when everything resurfaces, memories of pain and guilt and that's when you crash down. That's when you open, and break. How do I know that? First-hand experience. You see.. The aftermath of shock can be many things. I wished I was blessed enough to have amnesia, but instead I got stuck with PTSD. Not that I've told anyone of the diagnosis I took a week after the Invasion was over, of course. _

Artemis was _this_ close to choking.

Wanting to prevent such a thing from occurring, the Bat acted on quickly, no longer tending to her sore jaw but instead dropped down to her distraught friend's level to rub soothing circles on her back as they embraced.

When she felt Artemis shaking and sniffing, she wrapped her arms around the girl more thoroughly, as if encasing her in a cocoon. She murmured softly, "Hey, focus on my voice. Block out whatever bad things you're seeing or hearing apart from that. It's okay, it's okay. Let go. You're so strong, Artemis."

The blonde's head no longer rested on her neck as she tilted upwards to gaze into cerulean orbs, with more of her tears threatening to spill, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get carried away. I guess I drank too much. You're my friend no matter what, Rob, please don't be mad."

"I can never be mad at you, Artemis. And I really am sorry about KF. I never wanted to hurt him.. or you," she confessed sincerely.

Artemis knew, deep down, she already believed her. And she was a horrible person to have ever doubted her and let this whole evening, their first face-to-face meeting in a long time progress this way. All that crap she yelled at Robyn, and boy, the outright violent assault to the face. It wasn't just Robyn who may have fucked up in her mission schematics, which she had done under heavy burden, for today, with the way she acted, it was her who truly had fucked up.

Artemis wailed, the noise muffled in the paler vigilante's jacket. Robyn just stroked her fingers through the thick mass golden hair comfortingly, "You know Canary would've been proud to see that mean left hook of yours just now. I mean _I _saw stars."

The quip instantly halted her friend's breakdown. "Only you, Rob, could find the humor in this schtick."

She chuckles, a tear slipping through her eye. It easily dried, leaving no trace.

Hauling her female companion up to her feet with relative ease, Robyn let half of the weight lean on her as one of the archer's arm slung around her shoulder for support, "Let's get you home, Arty."

The last thing Artemis remembered about their journey back was pathetically protesting about Robyn having to fully carry her in her arms to trek down the steeper hills, and then nothing as she willingly welcomed the blanket of darkness – knowing she was safe.

* * *

**_A/N: I believe you'd have to excuse the OOCness (on Artemis' part) in this as I believe drunkenness is an ingredient, no, recipe of OOCness. Review?_**


	3. The Games We Win

_3. The Games We Win_

Robyn had been long established by many as a workaholic.

An introvert however, she was not.

But people had come to openly declare (not accept, mind you) the noticeable change in her behavior. For starters she had adopted a habit of working alone as in solo without chaperones or any allies behind her.

She operated within her own base, the minimalistic warehouse in the suburbs of Bludhaven which had served as a temporary home for the Team after Mount Justice blew up last March. A new HQ for them had been built several months ago by the coast of Ivy Town, and it was only fair since Conner, Mal, Karen and M'gann's daily routines suited the spot.

Secondly even with the open invitation, Robyn had untangled herself from Team membership and she'd insisted on being cooped up inside her own gloomy place during the after hours of her patrol, even spending the night in the bare living quarters that had been prepared in a rush back then for their prior vacancy if she were too lazy to go back to her apartment. She'd even gone as far to make her stay even more comfortable, having her necessary and leisurely personals kept in a cabinet; several sets of clothes, toiletries, music albums, and a few books.

She'd rarely help herself out by stopping at the Bat Cave for favors since her base was minimal in tech when compared to what Bruce installed back at the caverns of Wayne Manor. Instead, she forced herself to make do with what she has, and if it doesn't work out, the Grayson took it upon herself to modify and expand the networks and machinery.

Right now, an unmasked Nightwing sat on a large leather chair by the large main computers counter, her thoughts predominated by an old beat up copy of Gaston Leroux's _Phantom of The Opera_ as she continued to read. She'd taken off her gloves and emptied her suit of gadgets, having tossed them into a duffel of her general miscellaneous along with her eskrima sticks she'd most likely bring back to the apartment sometime later at dusk.

The reason she was still up and not resting was because she wasn't sleepy at all contrary to popular belief. Her impressionable encounter with Artemis earlier in Central consumed her, and overall the adrenalin wash from stopping three muggings and the re-capture of an escaped convict from Black Gate hadn't wore off.

Robyn should really lay off the espresso during midday.

When the screen flashed red, meaning a video call request was being sent there, she'd immediately seated herself closer to the control panel, marking the page from the book at where she'd stopped before setting it down onto a nearby shelf rack. After entering a few manual combinations by the intricate buttons on the keyboard to unlock her extremely secure firewall, she'd intercept the call, having data that confirmed it was made from a Wayne Enterprises' jet, meaning Bruce was calling.

Sure enough a live footage of the man himself sitting in a makeshift office room in the large private airplane filled the wall-sized screen.

"Hey Bruce, you flying back to Gotham?" It's rather odd that even though he was the one calling, the man behind the cowl had always been preoccupied with something else, like presently, gouging his eyeballs on a bundle of work papers.

"No I'm not. I'm heading to Taos' STAR Labs to seal a chemicals deal Lucius has been bugging me about since May."

He stacked them neatly, before discarding them into a brief case. Making eye contact with his first protege, his eyes widened. "What happened to your face?"

Okay, so the side of her cheek might've been still a bit bruised since she didn't immediately put some ice on it but she didn't thought it'd be that jarringly obvious. She lied, "Some idiot slammed me with the library door during free period."

Bruce didn't buy it, but had just let it go. He shook his head, before his eyes shifted into the determined look of Batman. "Listen, I'm going to be out of town for a couple more days so-"

"You want me to take care of Gotham? Sure thing," she finished his sentence casually, but it troubled Bruce to see her eagerness in crime fighting since she'd been out solely on her own. She was too devoted, too involved in the city's war against the black, that she became the outcast Bruce could never thought believe his first Robin could become. She'd grown to be like him, and he didn't want that. He never did.

"Yes, that's the first part of what I'm asking you to do. I have another task you might not relent to accepting so lightly."

"Babysit Tim? Come on, Bruce, that kid isn't a rule breaker. I was the one who sneaked out a lot. Plus I know you have his room tripped of security alarms so you'd know if he'd been out past curfew or something."

"No," for a split second Robyn could've sworn Batman's eyes lit up with mild humor, before he was serious again. "There's a formal function tomorrow night at Wayne Tower."

She knew where this was going, defensively objecting almost instantly. "Oh, no. Bruce, your charity balls has been the bane of my existence for god knows how long. I am not going into a stuffy socialite gala for the hundredth time to be surrounded by cougars and sleazy, old entrepreneurs who want to empty your wallet. Plus, usually something bad happens."

She'd lost count of the many audacious attempts had been made to either Bruce or her life (and in rare cases his second heir to the company, Tim or other wealthy bystanders) even during such a grandeur event. Lately it didn't occur much, but then she never attended for the past year and Tim was the one who had to carry out the torture of being Bruce's plus one to the latter's own parties.

"Robyn, you're the only one who can fill in for me. Tim won't be taken seriously because he's too young, and frankly you're capable of conversing with my colleagues rather well." _In the past, that is,_ he'd left out. By today's standards, Bruce could've sworn Tim was easier to talk to compared to her.

"And there's an assignment so it won't be too boring," Robyn's interest piqued at this, naturally imploring her father figure and mentor to continue.

"Lloyd Welsh, former director of Atlas Productions," he started. "In 2014 his company was thrown out of the market and he was permanently outlawed for national class embezzlement. Supposedly sent to federal prison for his crimes immediate that summer."

"Something about using a foreign informant for stealing prototype models from Cadmus, right?" She called out, vaguely remembering the case.

Bruce nods, "That's the one. However Lloyd begged for amnesty, and in light of Cadmus being a rather unsympathetic victim to the public eye it wasn't that hard for him to weasel his way out from being trapped behind bars. Resources said that after a deal, he was under the FBI's protection with a new identity hidden away in the more remote parts of Sweden."

"That's awfully convenient," she let out distastefully, knowing Lloyd was Scandinavian and won't be too far from home. "So what's the job?"

"Lloyd has a son, and he's no coward. Just after he turned twenty he unfrozen all of his father's assets, at least the remaining amount left from when he'd been sued. The boy took the money to attend university, and now having graduated, he's back in town for the gig through inheriting the remnants of his father's company. I know for one thing that his ambition is to merge hands into the Wayne Foundation."

"So he's convinced he could atone his father's sins or something? Rise from his ashes and all that cliche?" She was openly intrigued, not having known the corrupt business man named Lloyd even had a son in the first place.

"Yes," Bruce responded curtly. "The difference between Nicholas and his old man though is that the boy isn't ashamed. He basks in the glory of his father's legacy despite his black sheep status. He's persistent too, this is the fourth time he managed to invade the tabloids with his doings."

"Which would be..?" Robyn trailed off.

"The kid is now the head representative of Global Mobiles, which is basically Atlas tweaked," he explained. "Their family, his uncles, aunts, cousins, and several acquaintances submit to him as board director."

Robyn whistles at this, and pulls up an online search for Nicholas. Any social network profile, google statistics, pictures, whatever. She skimmed down the page, seemingly absorbed.

She mumbles, "Nicholas Terrence Welsh. 22. Blond, green eyed, 5'12.." _Kind of_ _easy on the eyes, _she kept that last part to herself as she scrutinized the photo of the rather handsome and gallant looking young man.

He wasn't exceptionally so that he was no godly heartthrob who'd melt a woman's defenses with one swift wave of his hand, but it was safe to say that he was attractive. Strikingly so. Equipped with a strong jaw, a sharp nose, with high cheekbones and blessed with a pair of piercing moss green eyes.

There was no way this kid, who looked like a fashion model if not an athlete (soft spoken language for dumb jock) could pull off the money magic and leadership. He might've been a small-time royal, but there was no way he could dominate command.

"Don't underestimate him, that boy actually has a brain and an iron fist when he sets his sights on ruling an obstacle," Bruce warns her as if reading her mind, breaking the short amount of silence. "He earned a double degree in Harvard, London for two and a half years. He was quite in a rush to be the prince of Gotham."

"Uh-huh," she acknowledged, before scrolling further down the website, flabbergasted. _"Holy!_ He finished Civil Engineering _and_ Computer Sciences?!" She exclaimed. Those weren't easy picks to be frank, they're both one of the most challenging bunch in fact.

"And at the top three of his class," Bruce added bitterly.

"And they call me an overachiever," Robyn comments, somewhat scoffing offhandedly with how everyone initially thought she was an idiot at the premise of her double majoring in Financial Planning and Biotechnology.

"Which is exactly why, I should repeat; _don't_ underestimate him." Bruce frowns, "He knows no bounds, he tried five different aliases to set a contract with me, luckily it didn't take more than a few private investigators to reveal that the bank accounts had belonged to him."

"So you turned him down?" She was curious to how those ordeals had turned out.

"Shooed him each and every time," Bruce answers, revealing his patience was waning thin for the obsessed young man. "But this time, since he's showing up without disguises for a change, I'm going to make it little more personal. It's either a welcome or a ban I'll decree. I don't want any loose ends, no matter if this kid suggests it's only redemption that's in his true intentions. So let's see what does he really want, his real cause for chasing capital for his projects."

"You're planning to do that with my help, how so?"

"Yes. It's simple actually. If I were absent, and you were there as my replacement he would think you'd be an easy target. He'd try to charm you, and maybe I'd be able to give him a head-start position of a smidgen of power if the daughter of the Wayne Empire just happen to respond encouragingly as he courts her."

Robyn has a devious glint in her eyes. "You want me to play him like a fool. Lead him on. And then we set the trap, so that he'd show his true colors. If he happens to disappoint during the internship, we throw him under the bus too and put him away for good."

"That's the ploy. Now, are you willing to be the snare?" Bruce doesn't have to hear a reply to know the answer when his protege puts on a mask of eerie calmness.

* * *

She could've gone catalog shopping on the internet, she didn't have to go to some too well-lighted department store to pick out her evening attire if it weren't for her weight loss.

In recent months, despite the fact that she didn't succumb to starving herself or bulimia or the sort she'd lost about ten pounds. She'd manage to hide it from her peers or anyone in general, they'd only see the difference if she were undressing or measuring her mass on the scale - something she didn't do anymore in their presence.

She could only blame the stress, because even her attempts at continuing the protein diet she once stopped years ago when she entered her prime hadn't worked.

It didn't mean she was any less stronger, her muscles were still toned and maintained, but it's just that she didn't have that much of a weight anymore. The downside of it was feeling colder a hell lot easier in harsher climates, or in a more girly sense, having her clothes come loose as they no longer perfectly fit her curves.

In this case, her usual medium came out a few inches too large in her midsection. Robyn stared at the strapless jade number that hung a bit too limply on her body, frowning at the missing element of form fitting elegance. It was a good thing her uniform was a combination of kevlar and spandex, materials that would stretch and shrink to suit the outline of her skin to its defined shape.

"We could tighten the waist and hips for you, Miss Wayne. It'd be ready in an hour, no extra charge for the sewing revisions," the shop assistant offered her in the large dressing room accented with mirrors and decorations at every corner aside from the products display.

Robyn mulled over it for about half a minute, before deciding, _why the hell not. _Bruce was the one who tasked her with the fake seducing role she's about to play so maxing out on her credit card budget for the month would be easily forgiven. She hadn't spend a penny of her allowance last November anyways.

"Alright, thank you. I'll pick it up at three," the nineteen year old told the older woman who looked to be in her mid twenties or so. She didn't bother to enter the changing curtains as she slipped out of the dress and into her usual wear. She handed the platinum card at the cashier desk for transaction, before walking out of the store.

* * *

When the night came, she was as vigilant as ever.

Robyn saw Nicholas from the corner of her eye before he even stepped into the ballroom's dance floor, just minutes after his arrival. The young man had been readying himself it seems within the throng of people, observing the heiress as she traded various waltz partners in center stage.

He saw, rather than listened (due to the engrossing music) to the snippets of the small talk she entertained the men with, having engaged professionally with both the young and elderly and he had to admit, the girl was a fabulous little thing. Darling looking too.

What he didn't know from his short term spying was her apparent talent for acting and deceit.

When the ebony haired young woman pulled away from her last companion and had her back turned from him, he thought he'd surprised her, but the truth was a far cry from it.

She pretended to be so, unperceptive, as she swiveled in the volume of her gown to regard him.

"May I have this dance, Miss Wayne?" He bowed, extending a hand like a gentleman, a worthy suitor.

She took it with a touch of hesitation, as if she was just an innocent gazelle and not a viper who'd been expecting its prey. Nicholas was a tad bit breathless when he saw her up-close, held her slim form, finding that the heir to the Wayne throne despite her flowering age was truly a beauty. He cleared his throat, more for his own need of composing himself than anything for he was sure his voice had been lost somewhere in the fray, stating humbly, "You're even more gorgeous than the magazines led us common folks to believe."

She lets out a practiced, airy laugh. "None of my conversations tonight have been that entirely pleasant. I must confess, we're out to a good start Mister.." She led him to take comfort in the notion that their meeting was spontaneous on her part, that of would involve two strangers. In reality it was anything but genuine coincidence, he'd been trying to find a loophole in the billionaire's wealth which he'd presume to be her and she'd stalk him prior while in the salon just to know who she'd been up against.

Robyn hadn't been worried, but she had to admit, the Welsh son succeeded as he'd stimulated something, a spark through her spine dare she say it aloud as they glided across the marble floor. But then again she hadn't been around the opposite sex in such a compromised level for some time now. Still it had been a good idea to stop her dating shenanigans, her track record in high school with boys hadn't been exactly modest nor ideal.

"Nicholas. Nicholas Welsh. But feel free to call me Nick," he spun her into a low dip, and she almost didn't have to make an effort to look either startled or smitten.

"Then address me as Robyn," she whispered when he pulled her back upright to have their noses touching. "I may have heard a lot about you, Nick," she continued, breathing out to leave the scent of cinnamon in her wake.

He found himself gazing into a pair of deep blue irises. It was difficult to not be entranced. She was such a tease, behaving like a woman, a vixen even, and not the naive, nineteen year old college girl he thought to have been dealing with. "All good things I hope," he shot her a devilish smile which would have been terrific when pitted against any other woman. But little did he know, she wasn't one of them, apart from the ordinary kind.

The secretive curl of her ruby lips ghosting over his neck went unseen as the heroine lied through her teeth, "Nothing but the best."

* * *

_**A/N: The Welsh(s) aren't a big part of this story, they're just extras as they're minor OC's. Review? And find out what happens next.**_


	4. The Signal Fire

_4. The Signal Fire  
_

"So, is this how you normally treat your guests? Or is it special just for the extremely young and handsome ones?" Nick gestures towards his current access to the lavishly furnished private office the two were in.

The room was Robyn's, Bruce had given it to her immediately after she graduated so she could take up a position in the company but obviously, given the general emptiness of the 15x10 foot space, the girl had turned him down. The offer still stands though, much like the open position ready for Nightwing to occupy on both the Team and the League.

Much of the reason the Grayson didn't take the apprenticeship under her adoptive father's prestigious corporate was the fact that she knew most the under-workers, and technically anyone with a job below hers would detest her.

She knew Bruce wouldn't take her in as an intern, working in those small cubicles like most mundane employees had started out, he'd place her directly as a board manager. In other words, she was given the shortcut, an unfair one in the eyes of many. She didn't want that, and she knew she couldn't win a fight against Bruce against the matter. So it was either a 'take it or leave it' choice, no altercation possible. She left it.

She took comfort in the fact that Bruce had never brought up the (supposedly obligatory someday) vocation anymore ever since she'd gone AWOL. She shrugged, and Nicholas continued to speak as she gazed fondly at him.

"If true, then I might consider signing up as your chaperone to every ball," he winked. She poked him on the side playfully with her elbow. "Shut up, it's just a tour you narcissist."

"Ah, so I take it you show most competitors the innermost layers of your father's own work?" He leaped to seat himself on the French wood desk, and she did the same thing, their bodies pressing together.

"No, I'm not into sharing, but you're an exception. You're not here to compete, right?" She combed her fingers through her hairdo, straightening out the soft curls. It'd save her some time to get into her alter ego's look later tonight. His eyes seemed to linger on her movements, and he didn't say anything.

She continued, "My father thinks you have the initiative and a lot of potential. He told me he should be offering you a branch of our production unit sometime soon. He mentioned he'll be calling you to sign the legal papers in a week."

"Really? Robyn, you don't know what this means to me! I've been working all my life to get _the_ Bruce Wayne to lend a hand," he exclaimed ecstatically, and she could only refrain herself from remarking dryly, _yeah, and you did it through stalking everyone in our family, right bub? _

But somehow, it just didn't feel right to spoil the mood between them. She'd been teetering between making nice to the twenty-two year old or wanting to just brusquely tell him to lay off the Wayne Enterprise. It didn't take more than batting her eyelashes, an easy little angle, and a few coy snide remarks to get the young man to soften up, just like any other boy when he meets an alluring girl.

And boy, did Welsh soften up in lightning speed. So it didn't feel right to expect the worst of him, despite his previous unorthodox, semi illegal advances.

"Well you shouldn't be so modest, Nick. I've heard Global Mobiles sales last year skyrocketed to a surplus. Now if you can bring that little bit of magic to your portfolio here, I think you'd make a fine asset to the big guy," she can't help but to look earnestly genuine in her words, and it seemed to affect Nicholas. Suddenly she knew the lingering look in his eyes, recognizing it as longing. He definitely didn't want to talk about anything work related anymore, and the Romani suddenly regretted having sat so close to him.

He moved up and leaned his forehead on hers, their lips almost meeting, and that's when she pulled back, rejecting the romantic guise. She swore internally. _Idiot! Why did I do that?_ _Kissing him wasn't a big deal, now he might leave if I'd offended him. _

Her other, less criticizing conscience said otherwise. _You didn't do anything. That boy waited too long to get initiated into the family's business to hold out any longer, even if you didn't let him get some lip action._

Nicholas seemed to recover from the rejection, trying to not betray his emotions, keeping his cocky attitude in check. She read him like an open book, seeing through the facade. He unconvincingly pretended to not be hurt. She knew he's taken a liking to her, a rather fast but plunging infatuation just through the night.

She decided to take the third way out, a compromise. "You can't kiss me," she stated with a silly doe-eyed face that cooed otherwise. "Not yet," she takes off the tuxedo jacket he lent her sometime ago when they'd been watching the spectacular view of the city from the balcony, handing it back to him in the boldest of manners. She laid it on his lap, resting her hand on his thigh. She thought his leg might've twitched in surprise.

The blond grins suavely then, his eyebrows bending inquisitively. "I take it you're coaxing me for a first date for that to actually happen then."

She matches his wit, "With no proper guarantee either. Take a risk. You'd just have to satisfy me _and_ my father at the same time."

It's funny how despite his initial response, Nicholas was no longer bothered by their proximity, which limb touched which. In fact their current intimacy somewhat boosted his confidence. She felt her pride swelling, _that's how you make a powerful man fall head over heels with you._

"I think I'll take you up on that. I've never been challenged to pursue Gotham's princess," Nick answered wholeheartedly, seemingly intent on making her reciprocate his admiration and whatever feelings that seemed to have gotten involved in his system regarding her.

Her heels made it to the carpet, and she smoothed out the wrinkles of her dress. "Alright. Now what do you say to some imported red wine downstairs?"

"I'd say yes but," he made a face, "Aren't you under-aged? Plus I don't want to carry a half conscious you home-," then he grins lopsidedly, "Actually scratch that, I'd want to."

If Robyn had her purse with her she would smack him with it. _Oddly enough, he of all people had reminded her of Wally. Good humored, enticing, willful._ A pang that felt like a ton of bricks jolted through her ribs, she tried to ignore it, but it was inevitable that the darkly lit room suffocated her now.

"Are you okay? You looked like you stopped breathing for a second there," Nick supported her by the arm, concerned. She immediately reverted back to the unparalleled, no-nonsense young lady he spent the night with. "I'm fine," she flashed him a smile. "You just startled me. That was easily a statement that insinuated further ideas."

He laughs, a big, round sound of joy rumbling through his chest. "Well you're not so prim and proper with your drinking, aren't you?"

She lifts her chin, "As the host of this party, I'm entitled to consume as much alcohol as I want. I paid for it."

The young man loosened his tie, before stuffing it inside his suit pocket. "If you put it that way then, you've got a point Miss Wayne." A mischievous smile made its way to his face. Robyn hummed, inspecting him in circles like a vulture, "Now what are you so happy about?"

He chuckles through the sentence, apparently finding difficulty to maintain any last bits of seriousness in his demeanor, "I was just thinking.. If you do get drunk-"

"I happen to have a very high tolerance to most alcoholic substances, and believe me I tasted everything the world has to offer," she cut off hotly.

He smirked, "Well if you _do_ somehow get drunk, you might just get a nice little hangover that might make you skip school tomorrow, Princeton."

Princeton was one of the nicknames he had for her. She didn't mind being called that.

"And this is good news for you how?" She wondered how her absence at university would even begin to affect him, let alone benefit him.

"I know some girls don't like to stay in one place for a long time. Gets them antsy. And I take it you're not the type to tolerate being bedridden, like _at all,"_ Nick expertly concluded.

"Well done, detective," she congratulated him on the theory, which wasn't half bad. "But still, do enlighten me, how will that part work out for you?"

He offers and arm and she takes it as they walk out of the room and onto the elevator which had been nothing more than a glass dome for the south wing since it was for show, galas and whatnot. The sight was transparent, free for any eyes to invade. The whole world (if she was exaggerating) could see them descending towards the main floor where the rest of the festivities were taking place.

Gotham's elite stared at the two with mixed responses. Some were in awe, some commented the two made a striking couple, and some looked like they disapproved. But what voice do they have?

A horde of men working for the media didn't waste time to take pictures of the two with their cameras of various sizes and properties. Robyn thought as the bright flashes came simultaneously, _there is no way for our current predicament to not make the news tonight or the papers tomorrow._

She could just see it, every possible juicy headline coming up to mind. The article would definitely be scandalous, after all that was what gossip had been invented and preserved for. To expose, to sell truth from lies.

_Well at least Bruce will know I'm actually obeying his instructions._

Nicholas was handling himself very well, not at all tense in the presence of the crowd, but then again he's probably gotten used to it the same way as she had.

Growing up she'd constantly been in the center of the press, and she's luckier when compared to him, who'd gotten several public blasts for having fallen off the pedestal, courtesy of his father's actions. Not to say she didn't have any reproof in the last nineteen years of her life, she certainly had some, dating wise and more, but nothing to the likes of what he went through. Nothing quite permanent or damaging.

He turned to lock eyes with her, craning his neck to go over her shoulder, so he could whisper precisely right through her ear, his breath hot on her skin, "I think I might just get that date with you a lot sooner."

She tips her head back, giggling, as if portraying one who swooned, but lightly. "You are such a cheat, Welsh."

Before he could reply, her blue eyes became alarmed. A small red dot which looked like it'd been produced to paint a marksman's target focused on a dead lock at the center of his head. It took her less than a second to realize what was going on.

"Get down!" She screamed.

In exactly that moment, the bullet was fired and the thick glass capsule shattered completely.

* * *

**_A/N: Next chapter, the drama begins. Review?  
_**


	5. Dark Horses

_5. Dark Horses_

Nicholas was disoriented in light of the shooting.

He was surprised how quickly Robyn kept it together, having grabbed him for them to fall to the floor with astonishing strength to avoid a bullet to the head for his sake.

Shards of glass went flying through the air as the lift collapsed, but as they were pressed to the ground, the two were able to direct themselves away from the brunt of the jagged edged projectiles.

The commotion was only beginning, and the ballroom became chaotic. People were shouting and running, the gunfire kept on going; hitting the table legs, creating holes through the large velvet drapes, and had impressively strike the large chandelier above, as the large tapestry went crashing to the earth below. Luckily no one had been crushed.

The party's host hoisted him up abruptly and with his hand in hers, led them through the sea of bodies without so much as a second thought. Everyone was scampering towards the door for the emergency stairs (since the elevator was destroyed) which led to the underground parking grounds and Robyn kept it an obligation for them to be squished within the panicked crowd.

She wanted to test her theory.

The sniper (it was definitely a sniper, no high speed bullet could break through glass at such a long distance and be so accurately aimed) had to be a reluctant killer, meaning he'd only wanted Nick's head on a silver platter. He, assuming it was a _he_, didn't want innocent bystanders to actually die (getting hurt or emotionally terrified for life was another thing though).

She was right. The shots, excluding the very first one, didn't even come close to hitting anyone alive. She knew the tactic, he'd wanted to make everyone scram in their panic.

Nicholas had to go, and quickly so the unknown marksman's hit job wouldn't be completed. She slowed down so he'd outrun her and had gave him a push heading towards exit to the basement with her free hand.

Their interlocked hands though didn't let go, he kept holding on, stopping in his tracks as she tried going for the opposite direction. "Go," she urged. "I'll be right behind you!"

"Where are you going?" He asked loudly, competing with the noise, his hand gripping hers even tighter.

"My father's butler is outside with the limo, I have to go home with him or else I'll worry them," she made up. This time it wasn't some measly cover up though, it actually made sense, and she gave herself credit for actually being able to lie a little more rationally in times of dire pressure. In truth though, Alfred wasn't waiting for her, but her bike along with her stored gear was, just by the alley's mouth behind the zeta beam disguised as a broken phone booth next block.

"Hey," Nicholas wheezed, "I'm not that entirely comfortable with letting you go out there alone."

"Well comfort is a luxury you can't afford right now, Welsh. Every second you spend up here in this room, there's a chance whoever made an attempt on your life is plotting how to catch you and murder you the next chance he gets," she tells him harshly. "This is a danger zone, trust me I've been there before. But it's your lifeline on the market today. You need to get away. Now."

"I guess I better go," he breathes heavily. "Though it's way easier to just haul you off your ass and carry you across my back to get what I want. You need to persuade me better than that."

"How's this to make up your mind then?" Her eyes soften, and before he knew it, she was on her tiptoes and their lips met for a chaste kiss. He swore he needed more time to savor the moment, but like the dumb fool he was, he couldn't even respond, only shutting his eyes for the briefest of seconds before she pulled away.

He was breathless in the aftermath. He had a feeling he was going to regret this, releasing his hold on her. When his fingertips no longer touched hers, she was free, sprinting on her heels, the fabric of her skirt bundled in her hands. He yelled to her retreating back, "Just pick up when I call!"

She'd been well on her way by this sentence, but had heard him clear. She turned in the midst of running, looking back over her shoulder. Even far apart, he could still glimpse into her sky colored eyes. The image was unforgettable. She replied, "I'd be damned if I didn't!"

And then she was gone.

* * *

She'd ditched her bike by this time and gotten to roof hopping, one of her favorite past times of patrol, but this time it was much more exciting since she'd been chasing someone.

The target had yet to be seen, but she knew he was moving south, at least according to the motion sensors on the holocomputer installed on her left glove. He'd started on the building's rooftop opposite to Wayne Tower and ran from there. Ran as in roof hopping as well. She was refreshed by the change of pathway, fewer of the actual situations of Nightwing's interference happened on heights, her natural element.

Purse snatchers, robbers, hostage situations were generally ground based.

It made blood rush through her veins as she sped through the night's skyline, knowing tonight she'd be dealing with a worthy foe. An assassin.

She should expect something to go wrong, be the least bit pessimistic, but she wasn't. She was burning with vigor as she somersaulted for added momentum during a particularly long gap to jump through.

Smoothly rolling into a kneeling position with one knee, the masked vigilante sprinted once more. She was nearing the docks, the enormous construction ram, steel pillars as well as the bay coming into view. Her vision sharpened when she saw his figure, and instantly recognized the character from the titular urban legend of Gotham, late 2016.

The Red Hood himself stood on a narrow column in his leather clad glory. He'd taken the name to preserve the moniker of the several thieves who dubbed themselves with the alias, but the current Red Hood, was the most merciless of them all.

Only in the two, three months tops he's been around Gotham, Nightwing knew half of the mafia had bowed down to the extremist killer.

_Killer._ She had to remember that. The man was a killer, so she had to be on her A game.

She produced her grappling hook from her thigh padding, which doubled as a pocket, before launching herself up high, using the uppermost beam as a fulcrum. She flipped twice in the air before landing on the same platform the Red Hood was on.

Surely, an AK-27 was strapped on his back. "Nice gun," she told him. "It'd look good on the GCPD's evidence room, and even better with the tag, 'tallied over 40 body-count'. Combined with that I guess I'm here to arrest you for the almost plus one tonight by the name of Nicholas Welsh, in case it wasn't obvious."

So far she didn't like what she was seeing. What's underneath the Red Hood might be an ordinary man, but she knew there was something bloodthirsty about him under that helmet that revealed too little. Even as he spoke, his voice deep and almost guttural, she could not begin to decipher just who he might be.

"What can I say? I'm a hard worker, I make my dues just like you, Nightwing. But that kid, he's a bad seedling and the world knows it. Why fight if you're rewarded with one less nuisance, a potential member to Gotham's corrupt? I consider doing it as a favor to many." He boasted.

"You're delusional. If he was meddling with anything above the law, the cops and the League who both want your ass will take care of him. No blood needs to be spilled," she announced.

"Ah, pity for the weak, idle rich. That's cute. And you're all morons," he sauntered over gently, and for some reason doesn't draw any of his weapons out. She knew he had a myriad of tricks up his sleeve, and yet he hadn't show any.

Still she tensed as his well built form stepped closer, her hands tracing over the holster where she'd kept her eskrima sticks. "You're not a believer of second chances, are you?"

"Never was and never will be," his distorted voice answered. _He does look like the proud and unforgiving type,_ Robyn mused.

"Then you should share your disadvantaging outlook in regards to yourself when you're in that jail cell."

_Never make the first move,_ Robyn recited rule number one in crime fighting. She'd happily parry the blow to her head, so long as it meant she wasn't being the reckless one. Unlike her current sparring partner, she actually had something to lose. Her dignity.

They danced in a sporadically aggressive battle. Her blocks were barely able to redirect the full impact of his combat boot.

She allowed herself to be cornered albeit a tad bit cautiously, before grabbing onto the vertical ledge's panel behind her, and levitating her body horizontally, before leaping upwards.

Her flexibility was utilized as she'd curved over the column above her, her body positioned in a hook, her legs pinned together - she'd struck him with her feet on the chest.

Red Hood lost his footing, this was why he hated acrobats, they fought so unpredictably, spontaneously, it was hard to know how they'd attack after the prolonged defense nonsense.

He caught himself on the beam two levels below, before supporting his weight up.

She was there in less than two seconds, via an aerial flip. The silver handcuffs are twirled around her fingers rather playfully. So, he followed her lead. "I'm into the kinky stuff too, bird lady. But not tonight. I've got work to do, Welsh was just an appetizer. This next one's the main course."

She seemed unfazed by his crass, implicating comment. The whites of her mask thinned, a sign that she was trying to weave her way through a strategy. And then, Nightwing smirked.

A batarang came close to slicing through his shoulder. It lodged deep into the steel behind him. Without another word, he bolted for the large truck sized wooden crates seventy something feet below, plunging headfirst.

Nightwing took a shot at him with the grappling line, with a bird shaped bola-like end attached to its end this time, and aimed for his leg. It was just about to wrap around his ankle, but even midair and upside down, he'd retaliated.

Before the cable went taut to jerk him, with an all too perfect timing, Red Hood sliced through it with a dagger. An exceptionally sharp dagger at that, since it had been able to cut through a molten fiber line. It definitely wasn't ordinary, too bad she'd been too high up to get a clear look at the design, but that wasn't the only thing that was unreal. His skill to pull out such an ingenious stunt had her speechless.

He was skilled at evading enemies, and well trained, she'd give him that. She leaped down after him, using several posts to slow down her descend, before landing in a crouch.

"Hey!" She called.

Red Hood increased his speed once he noticed she's still behind him, hot in pursuit. He shakes his head almost obnoxiously, and Nightwing could've sworn he chuckled. And that's when she spotted the trigger device the masked man pulled out of his jacket pocket.

Without even looking back, the criminal could sense her new-found anxiety. Even with the modest weight of the firearm on his body, he wasn't the least bit slowed down as he climbed onto higher ground, or in this case, cargo.

She followed after him, her training with high bars coming in handy as she used her arms to propel herself at each ledge.

She didn't know what to anticipate when she finally caught up with him, but definitely not this. The arrogant pose, and all. Red Hood wasn't running anymore.

"This is the perfect spot to witness my most impressive en devour by date," he proclaimed proudly. He pointed to the single shipment happening at the docks below. There was a medium sized boat, with their muscle men currently unloading packages. "That is Maroni's latest unit of what he likes to call dragon weed," he'd explained. He didn't need to.

"I'm familiar."

Robyn knew what dragon weed was. It was a popular drug that went to the top of the trade even though it was only manufactured pretty recently.

"He didn't take my deal. I mean a forty percent cut, that's decent right?" It was as if he was genuinely prompting her to respond and speak out her opinions. "I offer protection from the competitors, give him a few regulations.."

"Such as?" She blurted out the question before she could stop herself. His answer struck a cord, as she predicted anything but that.

"No dealing to children, pregnant girls, or anyone holy in general."

She eyed the object he held in his hand quizzically. As if reading her thoughts, he told her, "I don't tolerate people who can't cooperate. Especially towards my greater goals. So there's a simple and effective way to handle it."

Before the two words were even spoken, she already felt the disappointment creeping in for him. "Eliminate them."

She was too late, that she knew of. The agenda's design was done before the night had even started. Red Hood had smuggled in his bombs himself (or through a techie if he had one, she doubt it though, a man that cocky had to be working solo) prior to their brush.

She had to change his mind. Lackeys were disposable, but they were humans. All the same. Lives that matter, counted and collated. They didn't need anymore graves to dig out, there were plentiful already.

"I _know_ those henchmen below aren't innocent. They made bad choices to be working for a mob boss. But think of what you're doing. There are probably more than fifty of those men on board. They could have families. Don't think of them as mooks. Think of them as individuals. Think of what you'd be taking away from their loved ones when you _kill_ them."

Red Hood isn't moved, in fact he was more cynical than ever. It wasn't like she expected she'd have an effect on him. She was desperate, period.

"You're pathetic. You've repeatedly defended the people even _you_ believe are hopeless to ever change. You think you're visionary? More like blind."

His mockery stung somehow. This isn't the first time a self righteous crook has ever tried to go all hannibal lecture on the vigilante. But maybe the Red Hood of all people had the ability to make her stomach do flips in heavy uncertainty.

She found her voice. "So ruling the black market through murder is the solution?"

"Yes. I'm calling all of you heroes out. You never seem to understand. You can't stop crime, you have to lead it to control it from spreading like wildfire. You and your allies rely on intimidation and fear. But what do you do about the ones who aren't afraid?!"

This was the most passionate he's ever went about in talking, and she has to hold herself from lashing out, wanting him to dish it all out. She wasn't sure why she wanted to give a chance at hearing him say these immorally crude things, but she had to. Even if just to see how far he'd take it.

"I'm taking them out! I'm doing what you won't do!"

His thumb landed on the button. She took a step forward, her hand reaching out to him uselessly. "Wait, don't!"

He pressed it before she could say any further. The explosion blew up the entire shipment below, the boat now set ablaze. Fortunately, the two weren't within blast radius, safe from the inferno heat.

She could picture the burnt dead bodies piled up in the bay's wreckage, and the luckier ones who laid breathing in varying states of consciousness by the land.

Hell hath her fury as Nightwing marched to claim territory on the sparse space on top of their crater.

Moving with lightning speed, she brought her fist onto the side of his face. She kicked him in the gut, not even allowing him seconds to recover as she smashed her knee brutally against his head.

He would've had to deal with a nasty injury to his head, maybe a cracked skull or a broken nose that would need a painful resetting if he weren't wearing a helmet.

He wasn't even fighting back, and that's when she realized she was doing something utterly out of character. Her temper had never got the best of her, but it did just now. With him.

She took a wobbly step back while Red Hood got back to his feet. He seemed to find the whole thing funny, snorting. "You know what's ironic? You won't even give a damn about fighting me if you knew who else I just pissed off."

"What are you talking about?" She braced herself for the worst.

"Their lieutenant.. is _not_ a friend of yours," he answered vaguely. And that was when he slipped away, throwing a smoke pellet that released a dense cloud of gas to conceal his escape.

Nightwing covered her nose and mouth with her sleeve to prevent herself from inhaling any of the substance, before deciding she shouldn't bother the hassle of catching him again. It was enough mind games for one night. She'd get him next time.

Still, his last words did intrigue her. When the smoke cleared, Nightwing quickly hopped off the large, tall stacks of craters, testing if her sinuses were off (they weren't) through vaulting through the air with a few experimental flips.

She walked the concrete pavement littered with about a dozen and a half unconscious bodies. She could still hear the tingle of warm, shallow exhales through some of the men's mouth when she rounded by a corner, meaning they were alive, though very much knocked out cold.

She heard weak moaning coming from the side, that she came over to its source. The man looked fairly average, slightly burly, and he was the one who'd been closest to being aware to the world. She gave him a boost, shamefully taking out her compact taser and setting it to a low voltage before zapping him with a current on the neck.

He stifled a shriek, now awake. His brown eyes widened to the size of saucers at the sight of the female crime-fighter, obviously nervous in her presence.

"Now that you can talk, I want a name. Your commander's name." She demanded in a low voice. He shakes his head stubbornly. "No! I ain't telling you anything, woman!"

_We'll see about that,_ she thought. He'd been lying down, but she bent and picked him up off the ground by the collar without so much as a strain as if he'd weighed as much as a toothpick. The fact itself seemed to dawn on the low paid muscle man, and he gulped shortly as his feet dangled below him as she raised her arm high.

"It's a good night for a swim, I could let you take a dip," with an added threat, she let the taser resting in her other hand flicker with electricity. The man looked like he was about to pee his pants, frightened to the core. So much for pledged allegiance, he broke like a dam, "Alright, alright! Just stop! I'm working for The Boss, Salvatore Maroni!"

Too bad the man wasn't very bright. Anyone who recognized the signature custom Italian red and black cruise would know he was Maroni's underhand. The stupidity earned him quite the violent treat from the masked woman.

She threw him across the docks like a sack of flour, his back hitting a wooden post hard. He screamed, and cried out as multiple batarangs pinned him onto the wall behind him like a dart board.

Nightwing tapped on her heels impatiently a measurable distance in front of him, another batarang twiddled between her gloved fingers articulately. "I know you're working for Maroni. Any idiot who's not color blind could figure that out, thank you very much."

"Then what do you want?" He asked, as he cowered back as much as he could, which wasn't much given he was stuck in the uncomfortable position. Robyn thought she was taking up the mantle of the circus' knife thrower for a change. A good one at that who never missed a target. Or maybe she should, just this once.

"Your direct chief's name, that's what I want, tough guy," she sneered. The sleek bat shaped weapon was a second away from being shot to pierce through skin, and that's when he caved in, barely halting her poised movements.

"Zucco! My captain's Tony Zucco!" He begged for his life then, having actually believed she was about to end him, "Please, don't kill me!"

Her grip slackens, her heart slows.

The Red Hood knew her personal vendetta. Meaning, he knew her secret identity.

* * *

**_A/N: Sorry for the gap with this one. Borrowed some stuff from the 'Under The Red Hood' animated movie for references. Review?  
_**


	6. Hidden Fears

_6. Hidden Fears  
_

Bruce had wound up with a contract that had the thickness of a country's guide booklet in light of the recent, yet long awaited business being done with Taos' STAR Labs.

He was engrossed in reading all of the terms and conditions which had been particularly lengthy, not wanting to miss a thing, for he knew there could be many rabbit holes if he weren't careful. Sure Bruce Wayne could lawyer up and waste a lot of dough in the process, but he'd rather redirect his funds elsewhere (such as supplying the Justice League and the Team with new tech and equipment).

"Is this a good time to talk?"

He was about to reluctantly request his eldest adopted to wait, maybe call him again in the next hour or so, but seeing the ashen look on her face - he just couldn't. He dumped the papers onto his suite's coffee table, before tapping on the com tablet to activate the holographic image feature.

The Bat Cave appeared behind an unmasked Nightwing as background. Bruce was a tad bit taken aback by the fact that Robyn hadn't gone back to her own base in her city and had instead tried to contact him from her current vantage point, not beyond Gotham. Whatever she intended to inform him, she needed to, and badly at that.

His voice is firm, resolute. "Yes. What happened?"

Robyn told him everything, well almost everything.

She told him how she won Nicholas over, and how that part of the mission had been fulfilled rather easily. She gave him the story of Red Hood's emboldened assassination attempt at their person of interest, leaving the public areas of Wayne Tower in shambles, how she suited up and clashed off against him in the docks. _He's good, dangerously so. He gave me a run for my money._

She recited Red Hood's goals for the night, his large appetite for Maroni's dogs since the boss himself was a bit _rebellious_ to the mass murderer's offered agreement (excluding the eccentric elements of his rules that she could not yet come to comprehend).

And finally.. how she lost.

She didn't reveal the criminal's well rooted confidence for his cause and methods, because it was something she found haunting herself. Added to that, there was no way in hell she was going to admit to Bruce that her ID out of the uniform might've been compromised. She didn't know that for sure anyways, right?

_It's not like the Red Hood said; "I know you're Robyn Grayson Wayne. I know you come from a family line of circus performers, acrobats, and that you're the only human on earth who can do the quadruple somersault. I know you're loaded ever since that playboy slash self-made father took you in. I know you're a selfish manipulative control freak who lied and back stabbed every single one of your friends, even ruined some of their lives permanently, bravo, just because you were trying to make the best out of the situation._ _And I know how sure as hell you fake it at not being depressed."  
_

She blinked neutrally, maintaining subtlety of her inner anxiety.

_Oh, who am I fooling for God's sake? All I do is straighten my hair, slick it back in a ponytail, wear a domino mask that doesn't even cover half my face, and let the world see the contours of a nineteen year old girl through this really, really tight catsuit. Ah! I'm only one step away from having a disguise as bad as Superman's.  
_

"I'm flying back to Gotham tomorrow. I should be back at the office to rein in damage control," Bruce confirmed. "You've gotten through enough for one night.."

There was a hint of underlying pity in his tone. He regretted having left his first protege during such a poignant night in his city, a night that could've gone better if he were there to help. Sending her straight to the crossfire she couldn't handle was never part of his intention.

"I'm sorry for tonight. I did a shitty job. Screwed up big time," the Romani's voice was earnest as she referred to how she was unable to stop her foe from blowing up the drug shipment, including all the men who were assigned to it.

"You couldn't have disabled the bombs in time. It was a cheap trick. Red Hood had been plotting before you two even met, he clearly had the advantage. If anything, I should've asked you to bring backup."

Robyn didn't have to move so much as an inch, her surrogate father already saw the denial flooding through her features. He frowned as she slipped on her mask, before standing up to her full height and stepping back, no longer hunching over by the monitors.

"I'm going to go help Gordon clean up at the station. See if we can identify the thirty plus bodies in the morgue," she told him stiffly. In other words, it could be decoded as, _I'm not in the mood for anymore consolidation. Thanks though, Bruce. Appreciate the effort, even though I ultimately deserve the blame. _

"Take the Bat mobile, the sky's whipping up a storm," he reminded, aware of the current weather in his hometown.

It was a fresh change to see him offer such a privilege, none too many times had Batman allowed any of his proteges to drive his precious car, unless due to the tactics and efficiency of a high speed mission.

It meant Bruce felt uneasy about her, concerned even. She didn't bore any injuries other than minor ones that could be simply treated, but she did look unmistakably drained.

In fact Bruce spotted her eyes before she concealed them, they were different, almost stony. He decided there was something wrong. Something else she might not have the courage to confide in him. He'll discover it himself.

As expected, Nightwing stubbornly declined. "Thanks but no thanks. The police station's only a few miles away. I'll be fine. A little rain is nothing I can't handle."

The first child of Wayne headed towards her vehicle, the custom made black and navy motorcycle specifically manufactured and designed for her heroic aspirations. She mounted herself on the leather saddle, putting on her helmet.

The engine roared to life and she gave the screen, well Bruce, a salute before speeding through the cave tunnels.

* * *

Jim Gordon accepted the heroine's aid without much thought.

The two privately worked together for about two hours. The commissioner was tired himself, and it was downright depressing not to mention a wee bit upsetting for the stomach to inspect dead bodies. Emphasis on the word _dead_. Thank the lord the bodies hadn't reek yet, give it a day or two and the stench would be putrid.

Some that were badly burnt beyond the point of recognition were solved by Nightwing's glove computer. Jim watched in subtle admiration as the young woman did her scans through the holographic interface, her fingers typing quicker than ants scattering when their hills were destroyed.

The father of Batgirl (who didn't know of it at the time) continued to make progress on the bodies before noticing the rare air of silence around them.

It was odd, even during the darkest hours he was used to the exuberant nature of the former Girl Wonder. She usually cracked jokes even to help times like these pass less painfully. That was the difference between the Batman and his first sidekick.

She was stoic and professional in the face of danger, but around allies, she behaved like a friend, a true friend who comforted others around her (ignoring the fact that no one knew her true self and personal life behind the mask).

It made him want to shudder to know that she was barely twenty and had seen more blood and violence than even most grown men and adults alike.

Tonight though, she barely said two words aside from the permission to pluck DNA samples from the deceased muscle men and her earlier 'hello' when she'd arrived. Something was bothering her, he could tell.

It wasn't in his place to ask the casual, _what's on your mind, kid?_ like he would if she were one of Barbara's close friends.

As if.

His little pumpkin would never get caught up with people of her caliber, running in fitted kevlar and spandex during the night, jumping from buildings with a tiny cord and all. Plus probably the Batman, who must've been her father figure already had, or will soon have the conversation with her.

He let it slide. After all, he should be going home to his apartment in twenty minutes to enjoy his own daughter's brew of Jamaican coffee and muster up the energy to interrogate her about any potential love interests in the walls of Colombia University (this is a weekly thing, father-daughter bonding even, don't ask). The job of a policeman and more importantly, a father.. could take all night.

But it was worth it.

* * *

It's chilly, and the tips of her fingers are brutally icy despite the fact that there's a temperature stabilizer which serve as an insulator in the fabrics of her attire.

It doesn't stop her from kneeling in front of the tombstone though. Her folks were buried in Gotham's public cemetery, Bruce's are here by his incredibly vast estate grounds, just a bit father away by the willow tree she used to climb and play on.

She moves to sit Indian style on the wet grass by the single grave spot for the second Robin, before huffing out a breath of hot air. It's still pouring, but not too heavily, and there was no thunder or lightning anymore so virtually she knew it was harmless to be outdoors.

Her hair is soaked, clinging to her skin and clothes. The moonlight allows her to see the ornate letters engraved on the marble headstone.

_JASON PETER TODD WAYNE. _

_16TH AUGUST 1998 - 9TH OCTOBER 2014._

_LOVING SON, BROTHER, AND FRIEND. _

_THE HEAVENS WELCOME YOU.  
_

She clears her throat. If anyone spotted her talking to an unseen rotting corpse located six feet deep underneath, they'd think she might be losing her sanity. But she felt safe, knowing she had her privacy within the boundaries of the private burying grounds, which was just plainly the fields of Wayne Manor. So she talked, as if Jason was actually there.

"Hey, I know I haven't been here as often as I should.. Blame Wally for that, kick him in the shins or something up there.."

She meant to joke, but it just came out awkward. Her eyes closed, she never expected a reply, so she just went on rambling.

"I didn't perform well tonight. Some great partner, am I? Letting thirty-seven men _die_ inside a massive ship and another sixteen injured. I know they're scum, and they had it coming, but even death's too harsh of a punishment, don't you think? You should've seen the look on Gordon's face when he got to the scene. Or hear what Bruce tries to say just to make me feel better. It's an improvement, not exactly 'father of the year' material, but an improvement nonetheless. Point is, you'd call me an idiot for what I couldn't do but you're not really there so _I'd_ have to call _my_self an idiot. Sometimes I get it why you're so against the whole 'no first-person shooter policy' thing and just be civilized even around villains; it _never_ gets things done."

She sneezed, before cursing. "Oh, shit. Well there goes the Corporate Law lecture I'm supposed to attend tomorrow."

A mischievous smirk came to her lips. "Well I suppose, what are online studying accounts for? I think it'll be no problem to hack in the lecture hall's surveillance system and just record my own copy of the session."

Then she did something out of the ordinary. She procured a small, worn out dark green storybook which was basically a light read but spoke volumes in nature. She showed it off. "Robin Hood, you've always loved this one.."

Robyn may have done some very odd things in the graves of her loved ones, but this was definitely one of her strangest habits. At her parents, she might've on occasions showed them new moves she learned.

At Wally's, she'd bring the dorkiest mementos (usually something they picked up from past missions) to do storytelling with. At Jason's, she spent her time reading to him, even if he couldn't listen.

She'd already read him most of the classics, old World and European literature, even translated Greek since the former Robin had been fascinated by mythological stories. Two years worth of visiting time gave room for her to read out an entire book shelf's contents from the library.

She fleeted through the pages rather quickly, animating some of the action sequences with the arrow shooting (although she knew Roy, Artemis or GA, cough, bow people, would've portrayed it a hell lot more properly). She laughed out loud at a few of the funnier sequences, cheesy lines and made it all the worse with her horrible, sub-par imitation.

A part of her, the all too hopeful Flying Grayson side of her had arguably wished she'd hear his laughter in return. But there was nothing but the ghosts of his past, their past, and she knew she wouldn't be given the slightest ounce of reprieve.

_Life is cruel, and death is permanent. _She convinced herself.

The vigilante yawned, moaning as she stretched, shutting the thin novel in her hand as the tale ended.

"I didn't bring you any flowers, you know? But then again, you hated that crap, even if it smells good. But this isn't so bad, right?"

The black haired girl inhaled the scent of rain and earth, oddly at peace even with the hollow feeling in her chest. Sometimes on impulse, she wanted to get a shovel and start digging for the coffin. She wanted to look at him, really him, handsomely dressed in that blue tuxedo, looking serene as if he were asleep.

He wasn't. He was long gone, without a pulse, and she couldn't have him back. It hurts just the same, no matter how long ago he died. It felt like it was yesterday when he'd been ripped away from the world of the living by that mad clown.

Her temples began to throb, a sign that an awful headache, or worse a migraine was coming up. She stumbled to her feet, her heart heavy. "I guess this is my cue to leave unless I want either Alfred or Tim to find me passed out here. I'd just be plain stupid to let that go."

Her knees bent as she crouched, she touched the rough patch of grown grass at the would be center of the coffin if it were above ground, seeing green instead of the brown murky soil she was used to seeing.

When she broke down, angry at his untimely demise, she'd always claw at the spot, tearing up the green to their roots maniacally until dirt was caked under her nails. It vented out her frustrations rather well, because she'd rather not repeat breaking her knuckles over punching his gravestone.

She had to remain strong, there was no room for mistakes. Not when a ruthless devil's spawn was running around Gotham, whether a moving idealist or not. She still didn't get him, the way his mind solved puzzles was a mystery itself. He was a protector of the city in his own way, but where was the honor in doing that through _killing?_

Her features hardened, remembering another relevant point. _He'll ruin everything if he does really know who I am._

"The next time I'm here, Jason, I promise you.. I'll have that felon in custody," she whispered, not knowing of what she was truly promising, and how her will would shift _so_ very far towards something else in the near future.

* * *

**_A/N: I can't help to include a lot of foreshadowing here in this chapter. Thanks for the feedback last time by the way, I hope this support will be continuous from you guys. So, tell me what you think/review?  
_**


	7. Once More, With Feeling

_7. Once More, With Feeling  
_

As it turns out, Robyn did indeed have to take a sick leave for her absence at the next day in university. She spent her time around the apartment, catching up on her studies, before reviewing the classroom's tape she had irrevocably allowed herself access to.

When she felt less fatigued, she started moving around, namely through her pantry's cabinets and her refrigerator. She came to the conclusion that she'd ran out on food supplies, meaning she had to go drive to the closest supermarket to refill her stock for the next week or so.

So she did just that, for the better part of her afternoon in which she didn't feel so restless and trapped with her nerves flailing _every_where.

It was a mundane excursion, she'd been doing grocery shopping for herself for a long time now ever since she lived in Bludhaven by herself.

She could rely on takeouts and pizzas, but no she kinda planned to live until she was old and gray, and keep doing her _job_ until then too. The option was completely out of the question once she picked up decent cooking skills. Remember, keyword being _decent._

Of course she still well.. _sucked_, and at times she relished having Alfred, if not M'gann (the Cave's nonofficial cook) around.

But she wasn't going to be a baby about it, at least everything was edible and she may have had a few lucky moments where her experiments went the right way and became actually tasteful.

The young woman pushed her trolley cart down the aisle, inspecting the items she scavenged. Finding all her necessities in there, she went to queue at the cashier line. She paid when her turn came, and quickly grabbed her purchases.

An employee offered his services in bringing the bags, which was relatively lightweight in reality, that she politely declined his gesture. _It's weird having people asking you if you need help with carrying kid stuff when you can lift and beat up men who weigh much more than a hundred and fifty pounds. If only they knew._

Robyn quickly loaded her shopping onto her car's trunk, before getting into the driver's seat. Now she knew she shouldn't divide her concentration while steering the wheel, but a call she'd been expecting (she'd be lying if she said she wasn't remotely waiting deep down) made its way to her phone.

She picked up, putting it on loudspeaker since she didn't feel like balancing the thing between her ear and shoulder.

"Wow, you really weren't kidding me when you said you were going to pick up," came Nicholas' voice on the other line.

"I have a pretty impressive record when it comes to keeping my promises," she said smoothly.

He was grinning when he replied her next, she could tell. "Well then I suppose I better not disappoint the second most powerful woman in the world," he flirted expertly.

She raises an eyebrow, even if her partner in conversation could not see her display of curiosity. "So who topped me off that list?"

"That would be my mother, assuming if my father didn't have me with the support from a prostitute.."

"Ouch," she winced, though she was more amused by his attempt to invoke his brutal honesty in order to provide the fresh exchange of words.

One would think if a young man stated such a thing, he would say it grimly or fiercely through a snark but presently, Nicholas was just happy to be talking to his woman of the hour - which he eventually began to suspect wasn't the correct term to dub her.

She literally made his head, his stomach, and every inch of him so worked up. She's insatiable.

He cleared the fog that clouded his thoughts. "So, tomorrow night at seven sharp, I'll pick you up at the Wayne residence?"

"Yeah, sounds good," she responded, her tone natural. _Well that saves me from giving out my real address._

It was a good thing she hadn't revealed that she lived separately from her family's household, in another city at that and not a place a few blocks away - she knew it would give Nicholas better logistics to trust her if she showed him her relationship with her father didn't bore any questionable daddy issues, meaning they were solid.

As a family. As a team.

She wouldn't be struggling with the second one, her duty as a guardian of justice came first and foremost before anything else, but the first - regarding her personal relations, she had to make an effort on that one.

_Gotta keep up the image that I'm not some kind of an estranged daughter who's burning bridges at each chance she gets. Can't afford to have him thinking I'm not a crucial part of the Wayne Enterprises and all._

Plus, he doesn't need to be interested in anything else other than business in town, well mixed with a _little_ bit of pleasure if the part where he's taking her out to dinner or whatever is accounted for.

"So where to?" She asked.

"That's a surprise," he's having fun with this, with her, knowing mediocrity shouldn't be excused.

Being the first heir to a company as large as Wayne's would have undoubtedly graced her the good fortune of having splendidly cultured suitors coming her way. He intend to prove himself to be just as competitive, if not better.

"How am I supposed to know what to wear?"

"You're beautiful no matter what you wear, Princeton."

"Nice save. Most guys would slip and say, 'I'd prefer it if you wear less, sweetheart. If not, nothing at all.'"

He laughs, realizing they were a surprisingly compatible match. He knew how to keep her enlightened, and she had a frank sense of humor that could very well make her one of the easiest people to talk to.

It's a shame that his original idea for whatever acquaintance he at first wanted had little to do with actual romance, and was replaced with politics. She, the siren, made his more sincere desires overshadow the starting point's wager.

"Though I must say, Robyn.. You make it very hard for us to not tell you such a thing. Men are naturally promiscuous creatures," he had the gull to explain.

"I'll take that as a compliment," she interjected, before honking at a Honda SUV which came too close to her own transportation for her liking, it might as well scrape her off the road. She was momentarily irritated by the rudimentary driving of the unknown passenger, "So I guess I better hang up since I can't exactly let you go out with me tomorrow if I end up in a bloody splat on the highway.."

"I didn't know you were in traffic, and _wow._ Could you like sign up for the department of redundancy or something? I think you have the potential to make millions and be hilarious at the same time.."

"Goodbye, Nicholas," she told him sweetly, her voice silken honey.

Initially, she had him pegged as an ass, but now it wasn't difficult to be at least a third-quarter genuine in an overall friendly mindset. She must be warming up to the guy. She had no idea what to think of that.

"Bye," his evidently content baritone answered and the line ended.

* * *

Their date really did involve dinner, but what kind of date didn't?

Nicholas took her to _Bianca Luna_, a well known classic establishment in Gotham. It was pricey, she'd only eaten out in the restaurant several times, and that favor is usually based on either Bruce or a more financially able admirer.

The food was sublime, but then, you can't go wrong with Italian, right?

Nick however did manage to stand out against his past candidates, doing something different and utterly woo worthy. When Robyn had strolled towards the tables area, automatically having thought it was the right direction to go, he tugged at her wrist.

"We're not eating here?"

"No, that will be boring. Come here," he guided her towards the garden, walking in the paved stones fenced by flowered bushes.

Robyn realized they were heading towards a round pavilion at the end of it, where a dining table for two resided, obviously readied for them with the lit candle sticks and all that jazz.

She already appreciated the refined interior of the place if Nicholas would deem himself ordinary, but _this_ took it to an entirely new level. He really was trying, 'made to impress' and hopefully it wasn't driving him nuts.

"I made reservations," he said cheekily as he warmly took in her taken appearance. She rewarded him a demure gaze, though appropriately he was the one overwhelmed by infatuation.

"You are doing a terribly great job at spoiling me rotten, Welsh."

His smile broadens at that.

As the Romani modestly seated herself in the chair he'd gentlemanly pulled out for her, she wondered; most of the time, her associations with men could only be rendered as flings who could be easily dispatched or forgotten, but he, of all people - set up by Bruce for some instinctive and strategic placement of trust, seemed to be unqualified as such.

She's not really sure how to process this, so she decided that ignorance was the best policy. But one could only feign that for so long.

The meal went on rather pleasantly, the two occupied themselves with talking as it progressed.

Once dessert was over, the golden melody of violin swept through the cool starry night.

A middle aged man dressed in a sophisticated long coat ensemble, no doubt a musician as he wielded the instrument and proved to be the epitome of the impending music stood a few feet behind her.

Welsh was a romantic when he wanted to be. He'd freaking hired a violinist for crying out loud!

Speak of the devil, the fine male entrepreneur was by her side extending an open hand. Knowing of the unspoken request, she shook her head and stood, letting him lead her a bit farther away onto a sizable space for them to dance.

And that's what they did, spinning in slow circles, back and forth.

She hadn't really examined him the way he paid attention to her, even commenting how she'd looked lovely in her cocktail dress earlier, but now given the opportunity to do so Robyn did, her eyes pleased.

He was dressed nicely, while it wasn't the pressed suit at the gala, the buttoned blazer and shirt he was wearing was still sophisticated and dapper in effect. Not to mention, he smelled exquisite.. _was that musk?_

"Like what you see?" He teased, apparently noticing her inspection of his form.

"I better, after all you're the root cause my father's headquarters looking like it got hit by an earthquake," she gave him the clever comeback.

He looked sheepish, but his tone indicated otherwise, rich and a tad bit serious in contrast, "Come on, I can't help it. I know I stick out like a sore thumb with my father's rep. But you can't chose who your family is, might as well be grateful because-"

"Being grateful spares you the pain," she finished his sentence, and her eyes shone with something significant, sentimental, more lively than ever. He nods, captivated. "How can you understand, Princeton?"

"I did save a total stranger from his would-be assassin and further recommended said stranger's presence in my father's league, so a little moral insight isn't tough to come by.." She taunted.

"Ah, my hero. You _always_ have to remind me that you're the reason I'm living and breathing.. Don't worry, I'm not taking it for granted. But you do know that petty attitude doesn't exactly fit the job description, do you? Heroes are supposed to be noble about the rescuing they've done. Still I'd have to thank you for the papers that came in the mail this morning which I assume was partially fueled by your doings.."

"Your welcome. As for your backhanded insult, I've got one line to deliver; 'yet here you are, even with my flaws, still inexplicably drawn like a magnet..'"

"I can't help but to be attracted to you, Princeton. And I smell it in the air - getting a little cocky, aren't we?"

"As if you aren't," she scoffed lightheartedly, and he just had to chuckle. His expression might have not betrayed anything, but his heartbeat was escalating, thumping mercilessly he hoped she hadn't felt it.

She did, sensing it immediately. He was timid, acknowledging that the one time she did willingly lay her lips on his was as an essential play so he'd let her go within the ruckus after the anonymous shot directed at him. Would she want him to instigate again?

She didn't know if she wanted such a thing to happen. But for certain, she knew Bruce would. She did what was required of her, what she must, depicting free falling, feeling slightly juvenile, yet depraved inside for she was somewhat glad to do so.

"You don't have to be afraid," she breathed out. _"Kiss me."_

And he did.

* * *

**_A/N: Despite being a filler chapter, this was pretty fun for me to write. I do try to incorporate as much of Dick Grayson's uber high confidence/ego/conceitedness (which is not all real and pure, Dick, you wrench my heart out boy) into this adaptation of Fem!Nightwing/Robyn - and I hope I made it work. I pray to god none of you perceive this as author appeal or the sort. _**

**_I believe this is the last featured(uh, written?) appearance of Nicholas, unless I need him elsewhere later on. For now, let our blond bachelor step aside. So... cheer me up and review? (Next chapter: A close friend of Robyn appears and finds something.. interesting.)  
_**

**_And do forgive me for the 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' reference for this chapter's title._**


	8. Skin To Bone

_8. Skin To Bone_

"Coming!"

When Robyn answered her door, she expected the worst. The whole team standing behind it with cake and presents for example. M'gann, the party activist or Cassie or Kaldur would be the mastermind for it, since Conner and La'gaan probably still hated her. She paused, w_ow, I finally figured out what those two have in common._ _Well aside from the whole 'I love a certain martian on the Team' thing._

She didn't deserve anything from any of them. Regardless how some of them had forgiven her, she didn't want any of their kindness. Not anymore.

Her hand twisted the knob, and she sighed in relief to see that her guest was none other than Barbara Gordon. She stood alone, her purse slung over her shoulder, one hand bearing a bottle of white wine. "Surprise!"

"You came by yourself right?" She asked, her tone bleak yet hopeful.

Barbara nods, and it doesn't look like she was lying. Anyways the girl was one of her oldest friends, and knew her rather well to be considerate enough to not disrespect her wishes. Tim and Barbara knew she hadn't want to celebrate her birthday this year, but she had a gnawing suspicion one of them would eventually crash at her place and freeload because they couldn't stand her being isolated on her supposedly special day.

That person happened to be Barbara.

It was odd, Robyn thought as she let her longtime friend inside her apartment, they haven't seen each other in the last three weeks or so. And that had only happened in the guise of Nightwing and Batgirl.

The redhead peeled the layers off of her, hanging her denim jacket and wool sweater on a coat rack by the front. Indoors, she was now clothed in a bright yellow tank, beige khakis, and oxfords. Likewise the birthday girl was casually dressed in a indigo jersey shirt, baggy trainers and bunny slippers as she planned to stay home, having rented a few movies for the night.

"Where should I put this?" The commissioner's daughter gestured to the wine.

"There's fine," she pointed towards the pantry's counter, peeking from the kitchen to where her visitor had gone. "Actually, there's a cap opener in the first drawer on the right, so if you don't mind?"

"Not at all," the ginger did as she was bade, before strolling into the space where her friend was busying herself. The Romani pulled out a tray of lasagna, a rather large amount of it that shouldn't be eaten by one person and set it on the middle of her flat's dining table, apparently pleased with her devices for the evening.

There was a large bowl of fresh tomatoes, greens along with corn and a separate one for the ranch dressing, obviously meant to be salad, as well as plate of blueberry muffins (obviously purchased and not made). Utensils were propped for two chairs, along with the more visible champagne glasses.

Barbara rested the now unscrewed bottle of alcohol along with the lid on the meticulously arranged table before questioning dumbly. "Wait, you- you don't have a date coming, do you?"

"No, but I knew one of you from the little group of misfits would be, so I planned ahead with the cooking. Seriously go help yourself, I don't like eating leftovers on the next day," she took a seat opposite of the one meant for the impromptu guest, shaking out her dark hair from the messy bun it had been in previously, meanwhile reveling the dumbfounded expression on her companion.

To encourage the female Gordon, the host began to fill her plate with the dishes.

Barbara eventually did the same, tasting a spoonful of her friend's cooking. "You know you should've taken half of those gourmet cooking lesson coupons I left for M'gann.."

"I know," the Grayson replied, pouring herself a glass of wine before reaching across to assist the girl. She continued devouring the food then, before prodding, "So who bribed you into coming here? Bruce? Tim? Alfie?"

"Believe it or not, even though they may have did, I'd rather be here for other accounts."

"Such as?"

"Well it's a taboo to be alone on the day you were born, to not share at least an hour of it with any of your friends, and I kind of want to talk to you."

"About?" She's skeptical.

"I'm having problems with my dad, well not exactly him, but we had an argument.." The redhead responded, sounding upset.

"He didn't find out about you wearing a cowl during the night right?" Robyn would be lying if she admitted she wasn't a tad bit worried for her friend's well-being. Asking someone to stop doing the hero gig, especially someone as ambitious as Barbara would like be asking a bird not to fly. It was primal instinct.

"No, it's not that," Barbara looked relieved herself that it wasn't the problem she was dealing with, but the sour face didn't disappear completely. "He wants me to come to Nevada over the holidays, to visit my mom and James."

"Oh." Barbara was kind enough to dismiss the extremely nervous, not to mention stupefied look on her friend's face. _Crap. Well this was getting awkward at an alarming speed. If I knew you were coming here for family advice I should've locked my door and barricaded myself._

The redhead gulped her wine in one swig. "Look I know it's a petty problem. But I just can't bring myself to tolerate my mom or her man. And my dad keeps saying,_ oh honey, just do this once, your mom really misses you, it's been two years.. _He's not even coming! Said he's citing Interpol obligation issues. Well, newsflash I've got some of that of my own."

She mimicked her father's compliant tone rather well, and Robyn couldn't hide her urge to crack a smile.

Barbara seems to go on more expressively with this one, even taking a toothpick between her teeth to imitate the occasional cigar Jim took when he was stressed before wiggling her eyebrows, _"If it helps sweet pea, they live in this swanky pool house in an urban area, you'll love it and you could get a tan.._ Tan my _ass!"_

"I'm beginning to question if you're the one who had the divorce instead of him.." The female Wayne shared her teasing input.

"Robyn, please, I don't know what to do. Like it's just so insensitive of her to flaunt off her beau, it's like she's showing off what she left my dad for, and now she's just pulling me in without consideration, and I think my dad's just too fed up with her crap so he's playing along with it."

"Hey, think about it. You might not have the best relationship with her, and this might be just a way to kick the ladder out from under your dad but you've never fallen prey to it, so what are you afraid of? You are the most controlled person I've ever known. And even this is messed up, I think you should spend some time with your mom and your brother."

"Why is that so important?"

_Because you never know what you have until it's gone. _

"They left when things got hard in Gotham, during the time when my dad and I needed them the most.." She's a bit defensive, but it should be excused. Her mom was the one who'd been too scared that she filed a divorce just after the melee threats upon their family of four, now broken in equal halves.

Robyn shook her head in disagreement, "You can't blame them for-"

"Being a coward?" Barbara challenged.

"No," her friend corrected softly. "Wanting to live in security, it's a common urgency. And we should pat ourselves in the back because we're just not that self consumed with fear. So go, even if you want to slap your mom in the face. You know you can make the trip without some violent breakdown. I know you miss James, even if he's the little twerp who threw Mr. Bear in the mud when we were six graders."

If her hands weren't fixed on the utensils, the female Gordon might have pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. "God, I hate you for being right all the time."

"You know you love me," the other girl slyly winked.

"Shut up," she waves her arrogant friend off, before her face scrunch up in mild interest. "So now that I've spilled my guts out to you despite the fact that I haven't seen you in daylight or the night out of the suit, it's your very long overdue turn."

"Well what do you want to know?" Robyn momentarily raises her hand up in the air as if to say, _shoot away._

"I swear I haven't been reading the tabloids but after post-training showers Dinah did point out a very _interesting_ column in USA Today. I didn't take a good look at it, but I saw the pictures and damn, that model you cuddled with - _smokin'._ So are you up on the market or something? I thought you took a break from dating."

The billionaire's daughter fed her comrade's curiosity, "Well, thanks to Bruce I am, and I'm pretty sure I'm sold."

Barbara's on the edge of her seat by now, her eyes glinting sharply. "This has got to be good. Talk."

Robyn began timidly, "His name's Nicholas Welsh-"

A look of recognition and sheer surprise emitted itself on the ginger's features, "Hold up. _Wait,_ Welsh? Is he by any way related to the Lloyd Welsh guy who freaking _robbed_ Cadmus and went MIA?"

After swallowing a mouthful of food, the girl absentmindedly confirmed her thoughts. "Yeah, it's his sole son, in the flesh."

The stare Barbara's giving her is ridiculously wary and serious, she looked like she expected finding a dead body under their table or something. _"Wow,_ so you're going out with a scamming retard. Why?"

Robyn explains the cause with generous detail, given how little she usually speaks. "The kid is adamant on getting a merge with the enterprise. Bruce thought he was a nuisance, but he wanted to amuse himself or maybe discover something in him. He gave Nick-," she ignored the devious _oh, you guys are already on a nickname basis_ look from the other heroine, "-a position but so it wouldn't look like he was jumping the shark, he conveniently-"

Barbara finished for her, struggling to keep her laughter down in the realization. "Bruce pimped you out.."

The dark haired girl rolled her eyes before her lips twitched upwards just barely, "Exactly. Now you can laugh all you want."

After Batgirl recoiled herself from giggling, she wiped a stray tear from her eye, her voice no longer cracking, "Touche, that was sneaky on his part."

"Please, like you'd expect any less coming from the man," the acrobat replied, slightly unimpressed.

Barbara is doubtful to ask more, but her premonitions outweigh the uncertainty, so she did. After all she did have a right to be watchful, especially for the emotional safety of a good friend. "So when do you think he'll budge? I mean according to his bio it's very likely and I'll remind you that heredity is a powerful thing, believe me."

"To be honest? I think he won't," there is a peculiar look plastered on the girl's face. Her fellow teammate was still apprehensive. "Wait, but isn't this guy a shifty, self serving smart-ass? I mean with that kind of cheekbones and eyes, you'd have to be a douche. It's practically guaranteed."

"No, I thought he was but.." The first protege is at a loss for words, so she simply shrugs. _"Oh,_ has somebody caught the love bug? You are _so_ into him!" The redhead squeals, positively fired up at this small piece of denial evidence.

"Am not! I can't even kiss him without feeling like he's jail bait!" She's flustered, but just slightly.

"But he's older than you!" Barbara countered. "That's not what I meant, and you know it," the former Gotham resident replied, her chin held high.

Scratching at her scalp, the commissioner's daughter was dismayed. "Oh, boy. So he's clean, and not a daredevil?"

"Trust me, if he was, he would've shown me his place and his bed by now," blue eyes flashed with sarcasm. Batgirl seems a tad stunned. "So.. most of the guys you were with had been-"

"Horny? Desperate?" Robyn offered. The female Gordon coughs uncomfortably before clearing her throat. "Well that's not how _I_ would put it, but _if you say so..._ But do tell me, is he really Prince Charming?"

She bantered impulsively. "No, he's only another rich city boy. There are plenty of those to come by." Looking a little sheepish, she elaborated. "Well I'm not sure he fits exactly into the type but he's definitely not a perv or just some guy trying to launder money out of Bruce. He's more than that. I can see good in him. He's.. _trustworthy._"

Barbara's lips quirked into a smile. "I definitely didn't see that coming but that's nice I guess. And hey, on the bright side Bruce knows how to pick 'em. Bank accounts wise and the looks. Good for you."

Robyn grumbled. "I'm just lucky the unlikely cupid in black didn't ask me to go and date someone above thirty or something, because an age difference that major is going to suck."

The other girl badgers. "So other than the major dollar and that Hugo Boss look, what's he like?"

Robyn began to describe, coincidentally it sounded as if she were explaining the variables of a murder case, sounding flat if not analytical. The list goes like this; "He's funny, very flirty, and I think he's a romantic, already went a _little_ overboard with the candlelight thing on the first date. But bless him, he wasn't the first to do that."

Barbara claps humbly in response. "Still, this dude's got it bad for you. Aren't you happy?"

_I'm never happy._ "I guess, it's just so weird dating someone who only knows half of you. Like I thought dating in the Team was stupid, but from time to time, I think it's the only place where you can feel like you're being completely truthful to yourself. A decent relationship is supposed to be built on trust and honesty, and what Nick and I have gotten ourselves into involves very little of the two. And oddly enough, since I'm not the shady businessman, I'm the one prolonging the absence of those two fundamentals."

"Ah, you feel like you're being a liar when you have to make all the excuses to get away into costume or act like you can't lift a finger when it comes to any skill that could connect the dots to your night job.. Don't worry, any girl on the team who's ever dated anyone without a mask felt that way at some point," Barbara comforted.

Robyn glared at her bedroom's door, almost as if she could see through the walls and peek into Nightwing's station by the wardrobe's secret compartment. "I feel like a fraud. Yesterday he took me to this shooting arena in Downtown Manhattan-"

"Ouch, I can practically feel your annoyance creeping through in waves.."

She grimaced shortly, "I had to pretend like I couldn't even make bulls-eye to the _four_ meter range target, and I had him _teach_ me how to use a _Colt_ model.. It's a semi automatic pistol, the point of that is basically having _nothing_ to learn!"

"Shame on you.." Barbara's taking a humorous delight at this particular bit of knowledge.

She resisted face palming. "I know! Bruce taught me how to break apart and reassemble assault rifles when I was fourteen for Christ's sake!"

"But nicely done, Rob. You did Nicholas a favor with your pressing need of instructions. You'd definitely boosted his manly ego, I bet you gave him the opportunity to put some good moves into use as your _sifu_."

The Grayson couldn't help but to sound a bit unsatisfied. "I know.. I just feel like I'm not being fair to him. Obviously I'm never going to tell him, but it just kind of gnaws at me. He keeps thinking like _she's Wayne's daughter so she has to be treated royally_ or something. It's superficial on my part, any girl in my place wouldn't complain one bit."

Her companion offered her a faint smile. "I would. It's not really irrational to feel like you're a bad person when half the time you're lying to the people closest to you. It's the power of a guilty conscience, never underestimate it. But here's a tip; I think most guys prefer the 'us' we allow them to see. They'd freak if they knew our workout is fighting men and monsters twice our size on a daily basis."

Robyn brightened then, not wanting to let the doom and gloom suffocate the two. "Let's go back to _your_ crisis. I want you to go home and tell your dad you'll go for Christmas break, for James' sake and yours. I know it's not the most dignifying way to spend your time, freeloading on some posh place but come on, give it a try. It's a milestone, don't leap over it - go through it."

Barbara groans dramatically, "Can't someone _please_ kidnap me or something?" She pouts, giving Robyn this adorable doe-eyed gaze, her voice's pitch unusually high. "Maybe Bruce could hook us up with a European vacation like that time after graduation?"

Her friend looks amused. "Nope, he wouldn't. With all the stuff going on with Nicholas plus the mercenaries in town, I doubt he'd take a break from being Batman even with the holiday cheer."

"I know, I was just humoring myself," Babs smirked.

"You're not the type to push your luck, what's gotten into you?" Robyn mimics her expression.

Batgirl looks both crestfallen yet grateful. "A lot has changed, Robyn. You've been missing out. I'm just glad I can catch up with you, before I go into summer la-la land until next semester starts."

"Good girl. Just don't back down," the black and blue clad vigilante encouraged. She strolled to a nearby cabinet, before pulling out something. "Oh, since I won't be seeing you then I suppose I should give you this. Early Christmas present since you probably won't be at the get-together at the manor. Sorry I didn't have it wrapped, since it's early, you know.."

Barbara caught the oncoming paper bag tossed at her. She took out the gift from inside it, her eyes wide. She inspected the silvery blue dress from Barney's, it was exactly what she wanted. Only she hadn't bought it for herself since by no means she already had her postponed credit card bills, in fact the only bright side she had to going over to her mother's was the fact that she didn't have to do any Christmas shopping for the Team and extended. Don't get her wrong, she loved buying presents for others, it's just this year, she's been a little bankrupt. The dress was one of those things she could only drool at and dream of when glancing from the store's window.

But of course, for the former Girl Wonder, this kind of money was nothing for her to pay, a piece of cake to be frank. The unlimited trust fund from the Wayne fortune sure has its perks. Barbara cooed, "You shouldn't have!" She's surprised, "Wait, how did you know I had my eye on this?"

"You don't want to know," Robyn shook her head prematurely.

"Some things never change," the redhead stated, chuckling. Her phone rang then, and she intercepted the text, wincing apologetically. "Oh, duty calls. My dad says he needs help with the investigation, says he can't get the hang of the research software. I have no idea where my computer aptitude comes from sometimes. I've got to go."

"Sure, it's cool. Don't forget your stuff and you know," the former Robin meekly gestured to the shopping bag.

"How could I?" Barbara puts on this faked hurt expression, and it was true, no way in hell she was leaving the present behind (even if it had been a bit absurdly pricey of her friend to consider purchasing as a giveaway no less) besides it'd be rude to turn down, and Robyn laughs. "Thanks Babs, for the wine and the company. It's terrible to just be hanging out with boring old me. I didn't even take us out to a club."

"No biggie, it's your birthday, and are you kidding?! I'm pretty sure I'm _not_ going to be in a clubbing mood anytime soon after that last mission at Barracuda I went with Karen," the girl shudders at the memory as if she were drenched with cold water.

"Oh, I _know._ I read the mission report. That interrogation pretty much went down the drain as soon as Bertinelli pulled out his gunmen," Robyn blows out a strand of black hair away from her face.

"Remind me to never get in a bar fight _ever_ again. I smell like I showered in beer and smoke for at least three days. Jaime's scarab thought that was my sweat's odor when we trained in the gym," Barbara complained.

"Of course, what am I here for other than to help you get over the dilemma in making life decisions?" Robyn's shoulders bounced upwards.

"We should do this again some time over coffee after I come back. Deal?" The Gordon proposed.

"Deal," she agreed.

Barbara gathers her things, and promptly gotten dressed in her outerwear, but stopped at the last minute. "Hey, you mind if I use the bathroom real quick? I don't think I want to pee in the gas station's lavatory. It's not _that_ nice."

"Sure. You're not using the Zeta tubes?" Robyn inquired quizzically.

"Nah, dad got me a Honda accord, it's about three weeks old but I'm gonna break into it every minute I get," Barbara told her friend.

"Nice. He's proud you got in Colombia," the compliment came out easily.

"Yeah, but I think the car's sort of given at a very convenient timing, don't you think?" Her deductive reasoning remained flawless.

_"Eh,_ cut the guy some slack - he's your dad and he's a cop, that's just how he roles. Persuasion is a fine trait to adopt. Go ahead, can't say no to the bladder," the newly twenty year old pointed to the general vicinity of the bathroom. Barbara headed towards its direction, stalling no longer.

She quickly took care of her womanly matters, washing up in the sink afterwards. Finished, she wrapped her hands in a towel to dry. She inspected her reflection on the elliptical mirror, alongside the room's overall image. She held back a whistle, _it's sure nice to live in a penthouse. The shower and toilet's high tech like crazy._

She smoothed over a few crimson curls, before deciding she was alright to go. Unexpectedly, the fabric of her long scarf got caught in the main drawer's handle, so she spun around and tugged at it. It was no longer knotted, but upon impact, the wooden drawer was pulled open. She bumped it closed with her elbow, before going off.

Just as her hand touched the doorknob, her feet wanted to tread elsewhere. She followed her gut, turning back from the exit, and to face the bone white dresser's front. She let out a breath she hadn't know she'd been holding.

_This is wrong. This is so wrong. I shouldn't-_

_But you saw something, right? And what if it's something important that you spotted?_

_Still, I'm trespassing. And I'm a horrible friend to invade someone's personal space. _

_Privacy's a lame thing, no one has it these days. Your dad does a full body cavity search whenever you get home, remember?_

_That's- that's different. It's a dad thing._

_Now this is a friend thing. You of all people should better understand that sometimes it's necessary to hurt someone to protect them._

_..fine._

She doesn't miss the way gravity seem to be losing its hold on her conscience. Tough love, it is.

She hoped what she'd seen earlier had been a false alarm, but apparently she was right, her eyes too keen for her own good. There were about ten more bottles inside possibly, the whole drawer was completely filled. Robyn would downright humiliate to the local pharmacy's stock in competition to her extensively fuller supply.

Barbara went through them, her fingers digging through the depths of the scattered containers. Some were emptied, some halfway used up, some were still whole and brand new as they were still encased in plastic. Her heart sank, her posture sagged as she stared at the object in her hand, willing it to change into something else entirely. Anything but this.

It doesn't change one bit. In bold capital letters, the label mocked her as she read slowly. She groans.

_Oh, fuck._

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**_A/N: Incredibly long, wasn't it? Well, at least you guys can enjoy reading it, because I'm pretty sure I didn't enjoy editing this like.. at all (the writing part was fun, though, it's the revisions that sucked, and I probably still missed a few *boo*). Pity me, fellas. Please, do leave a review on your way out. Thanks._**


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